


Forgiven

by HOMRA



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Gang Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Romance, Everything is subject to changing, Fix-It of Sorts, Gun Violence, I'm Bad At Summaries, Loss of Powers, M/M, Not Beta Read, One-Sided Attraction, Self-Acceptance, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Survivor Guilt, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25756645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HOMRA/pseuds/HOMRA
Summary: Suoh Mikoto should be dead, there's no logical reason to explain why he isn't. Not that anything had everreallybeen logical when it came to Suoh to begin with. After waking up from a coma, Mikoto is confronted with that reality as he's told he's no longer a king, but has somehow been given a new lease on life -a lease he feels he doesn't deserve. As he comes to terms with his new reality, he's faced with the challenge of confronting the people that he left behind while he tries to make something meaningful out of a situation that never should have happened in the first place.Eventual MikoMisa.
Relationships: Awashima Seri/Kusanagi Izumo, Munakata Reishi/Suoh Mikoto, Suoh Mikoto/Yata Misaki, possibly others
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Forgiven

**Author's Note:**

> This note can be skipped if you have no clue about my other stories or if you don't care to read it, none of this pertains to the story at all so you're not missing anything but my rambling.
> 
> Well, it's been awhile, hasn't it? To be honest, when I stumbled upon something that reminded me of this account and everything I had written, I hadn't thought about any of it in a really long time. But here I am, writing another thing that's probably going to be stupidly long, but the idea just wouldn't leave my head.
> 
> For anyone who has read my unfinished pieces and is wondering if they will forever remain that way, the answer is "it depends". To be honest, I can't really recall the way I wanted to wrap them up, but is there a chance I could rewrite them? Absolutely. If there's any interest in my old unfinished works and a decent amount of people would care to see them recreated or updated, I don't have an issue doing that. However, I want to write this first (and yes, I will finish this one), then go from there. 
> 
> Side note, expect each chapter to be about 10k to 12k words and for this story to be about 100k words or so by the time it's completed.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it and falling in love with this wonderful series again.

Justice had never been something Suoh Mikoto had considered wanting before.

The only mentions of the word that were ever made around him had come from his nemesis, Munakata Reisi, and typically implied that Suoh had been the one in the wrong, in some way or another. Mikoto reasoned that perhaps the implication that he had been the one who deserved to be held accountable for the things that he had done was most certainly the reason he had never seriously entertained the idea that wrong doings deserved to be punished. A part of him knew that he never hated justice itself, only how he was always seemingly on what he considered the wrong side of it.

He felt no remorse when his Sword of Damocles began to fall, and for a brief moment, he understood where Reisi had been coming from for all those years that they had spent at each other's throats. It felt overwhelmingly _good_ to kill the man who had taken the life of his friend. It felt right. It felt fair. He wondered if his own passing would stir the same feelings in the Blue King. If Munakata Reisi killing him would somehow right the wrongs Mikoto had committed during his brief but never dull life. He even wondered if the people that he had harmed would be happy to hear that he had finally been put to stop for good. He assumed they'd at least sleep better at night knowing he wouldn't be out there to cause them any more pain or fear. 

In some ways he supposed that was fair, too. 

Mikoto barely noticed Reisi's sword buried in his chest. He felt no blistering pain, only exhaustion and relief, as he slumped lifelessly forward into his enemy's arms. He felt his lips moving to form words, forcing out an apology that he knew in no way, shape or form, would rectify the selfishness of his decision, the one that resulted in his demise, yet there was no tinge of regret in his voice. Even though his ears were ringing and he was losing consciousness, he was able to hear his own words, hear how relieved he sounded in his final moments, and it brought him some sense of comfort.

He wanted to tell Reisi that he finally understood why the Captain of Scepter 4 operated the way that he did, why he pursued something Suoh had all but scoffed at for so many years. The satisfaction of what he had done outweighed any sense of remorse he might have felt, yet in a way, it was almost fitting that he was unable to form any more words and that Reisi would never know that for once they could have agreed on something.

Besides, Mikoto knew Reisi only would have argued that point, anyway. Munakata was content with locking away those who had done wrong to others, whereas Mikoto would only ever be content when he claimed his pound of flesh.

\- - -

_Mikoto opened his eyes slowly, hands flexing at his sides as he tried to determine where he was. He was dazed, his memory filled with the events that had seemingly just transpired, yet he found himself not on the cold dirt or in a pile of his own blood, but rather in his own bed, head cradled by his pillow, body stretched out over the deep red quilt he had received from Izumo for some occasion he could no longer recall. He was in HOMRA, that much he was sure of, as he forced himself to sit up right, eyes darting around the room he was so familiar with as he took in his surroundings._

_He tentatively pressed his fingertips to his chest and reality dawned on him when he wasn't greeted with an angry bleeding hole in his heart. He had never given much thought to what would happen when he was dead, in truth, he had figured nothing would happen at all. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to be surprised over learning that he was wrong. Still, he couldn't help but think he didn't deserve to be where he was._

_Dead, definitely. In HOMRA, not so much._

_That was, after all, something he left behind in his pursuit of revenge, or justice, or whatever term he had used to justify his actions. Actions that he didn't regret, but actions that he knew would cause a great deal of pain to those he had left behind. He hoped they understood that he had wanted this, craved it more than anything. It wasn't fair to them, and he knew it probably brought them only the smallest amount of comfort to know that he had gone out on his own terms and the way that he had wanted, but he hoped that knowing that was enough to get them through their grief. He didn't want to think about the possibilities if that wasn't the case._

_He slid his shaky limbs to the edge of the mattress and stood slowly, letting out a deep sigh before he took tentative steps towards the door. His hand rested idly on the door knob, and for the first time since he had opened his eyes again, or for the first time in a long time for that matter, he found himself shaking, afraid of what laid beyond that door._

_He could stay in that room, he mused, as he turned his head back towards his bed. He could slip under his favorite quilt and rest his head on his pillow and drift off to sleep, warding off the problem he was facing, and while a part of him agreed that doing that would be the best course of action, he still found himself turning the door knob and taking a small step into the hallway._

_It was the same as HOMRA had always been. Pictures still lined the walls, the floorboards still creaked in the same places, and the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke still hung in the air in the same way it had since Izumo had taken over the bar all those years ago, but he knew this wasn't the same HOMRA that he was used to. He wouldn't see Kusanagi at the bar, or Anna sitting on the couch, or Yata and Kamamoto arguing with one another before they and the others rushed out the door to do god knows what._

_It hurt him, he realized, now that he actually had the time to think about it._

_He descended the stairs hesitantly, as if they would crumble and dissolve under his weight and he would be dragged into the fiery pits of hell he felt he deserved more rather than what he had been given, but instead, his eyes were greeted with an all too familiar sight. And, leaning against the bar with sad eyes and a forced smile on his face, stood the very man Mikoto had died to avenge. He bit his lip._

_"Totsuka."_

_"King, I'm so sorry."_

_Mikoto shook his head, eyes falling to the wooden floor they both stood on._

_"You shouldn't be apologizing," he answered after some time, looking back in the direction of his friend. "Not that it matters now anyway."_

_"It matters more than you might think," Tatara countered as he took a step forward, then another, until he stood face to face with the former Red King. "You shouldn't be here, you know?"_

_"Yet, here we are." Mikoto exclaimed with a sigh, one hand coming up to run over his hair as the other went back towards his chest. For a moment, he was greeted with a phantom pain underneath his fingertips and he pulled his hand back quickly out of shock. Tatara watched on silently. "I don't really know what else to say," Mikoto admitted as he lowered his hands to his sides once more, all but forcing himself to ignore what he had just felt. Tatara remained silent._

_"Totsuka?"_

_"Sorry, King. I...I don't really know what to say either," the younger man proclaimed, yet Mikoto couldn't help but notice the hesitation in his voice. "This is all...very strange."_

_"Yeah," Mikoto agreed with a slight nod of his head, "I don't get it."_

_"Nor do I," Tatara exclaimed with another forced smile as he motioned for the older man to follow after him as he made his way to the couch they used to spend a lot of their days on. Mikoto couldn't help but feel as if they were talking about two completely separate things._

\- - -

_Mikoto lost track of how long they had spent there. Time felt like a foreign concept to him, at this point, as he and Tatara would almost always have the same routine. They'd wake in the mornings and Mikoto would join Tatara in the bar's kitchen where the latter would prepare them food for the day, food Mikoto was still unsure if he needed or where it had come from for that matter, and then they'd lounge around the bar and talk for the rest of the day before retiring to their rooms, only to repeat the cycle every day afterward._

_There were few deviations from this routine, but when they occurred, Tatara would always avoid discussing what had happened and dismiss both it and himself from the situation, leaving the former king alone to ponder what had occurred in silence._

_First had been the pain in his chest when he had woken up for the first time, followed by a sharp pain in his arm a few days later, and a moment where he became painfully cold for the first time since he had become a king. They were always strange and random occurrences, ones that had no rhyme or reason for manifesting in the otherwise quaint environment they had created for themselves, and while they were always brief and fleeting, Mikoto found himself wondering if the phantom pains were his occasional punishment for leaving his clansmen behind in pursuit of "justice"._

_It was a small price to pay, if that were true, he thought, but Tatara's apparent distress over the happenings made him believe that that wasn't the case and that something was instead very wrong. It made Mikoto uneasy every time Tatara removed himself from the situation, avoiding all questions about the occurrence and oftentimes ignoring his questions all together as he excused himself and went to what was once Anna's room to rest. At some point he came to the conclusion that if Tatara knew what was going on, that he didn't plan on relaying that information to him any time soon. It did little to offset the discomfort he felt, but if Tatara was aware of his unease, then he made no mention of it. Mikoto doubted it would change his mind to begin with._

_Not that he had any room to complain when it came to someone else refusing to listen to his opinion or feelings. After all, he had never changed his mind for anyone else's sake either._

_The worst of the strange occurrences happened one night when he had already drifted off to sleep, having grown bored of sitting in front of the large windows of the bar that appeared to reflect a bustling city street he couldn't interact with. That had been yet another another point of contention between him and Totsuka, as the latter had eventually revealed that he was able to leave the bar whereas Mikoto could not. Totsuka had laughed it off in the end, saying his place was there, but it had done little to quell the nagging sense of worry in the former king's mind._

_He had not yet dreamed while being there, yet unlike the other nights, he found himself hearing voices although his vision was blurred and he could not make out any faces. Even the voices seemed far away, like he was in the bottom of a deep cavern, barely hearing the echoes of voices from the people who walked on the surface._

_"Vitals are...somehow..."_

_"He appears..."_

_"Levels are zero..."_

_"Do you think..."_

_"We'll know event-..."_

_Mikoto sat up swiftly, chest heaving as his heart slammed into his chest, sweat poured down his forehead, and he found himself shaking in the otherwise warm room he resided in. He vaguely recalled the voices, remembered hearing them at some point or another in his life, but found himself unable to put faces to the tones he heard. He didn't understand why he had heard them at all. He had no connection with the world he had left behind, save for Tatara, and what vivid memories they discussed at length, having nothing else to do._

_Something was indeed very, very wrong. He knew it, figured he had known it all along but had suppressed it from the moment he had felt that searing pain in his chest on the first day he had spent there, but he had refused to acknowledge it fully up until that point. Tatara had ignored it, after all. So why couldn't he? He had no Red Aura to make decisions for him any more, and Mikoto himself was tired of fighting when he had only just now begun to know peace. But the longer he sat there, the harder he shook, the more he felt pins and needles across his body, and nagging in the back of his mind that he needed to seek answers and to have some sort of explanation for what was going on, for what was wrong with him._

_He slipped out of bed quietly, traipsing down the hallway and toward the room his friend resided in, but when he gently pushed open the door he found the room empty. Outside the window it was still dark. With a sigh, he turned and made his way, shakily, down the staircase, arms wrapping around himself as he shivered, a sensation so foreign that it sent a wave of panic surging throughout him. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he called out for his former clansman._

_"Tatara?"_

_The bar was empty._

\- - -

_"We need to talk."_

_Mikoto said the words, voice barely above a whisper, as he watched Tatara enter the bar with a confused look on his face. Light filtered in the room, and although hundreds of people walked past the windows of the bar, even when Tatara had opened the bar door, they had made no sound. It sent a chill down Mikoto's spine, but he tried to not let his growing distress show. Tatara, on the other hand, looked pale._

_"About what?" The younger man eventually replied, not having left his spot. And although he did turn around completely to face Mikoto, his gaze seemed to be directed not at him, but at the window that sat behind the former King._

_"What's going on, Tatara? You know something I don't." Mikoto inquired, lips flattening into a straight line when his companion shook his head at the accusation._

_"King, I have no clue what you're talking about."_

_"Don't lie to me," Mikoto scoffed, rising to his feet, an action that made Tatara take a step backwards, hands coming up in front of himself defensively._

_"I'm not lying, what are you talking about?"_

_"Where do you go when you leave this place?" Mikoto questioned, his eyebrows furrowing as he took another step forward. This time, the younger man stayed rooted to his spot._

_"My house sometimes," Tatara explained, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Sometimes I just walk around the outside, sometimes I go to the nearby rooftops. Why? Does it bother you that I keep leaving? I can stay here, King. I can-"_

_"Why?" Mikoto interrupted, taking yet another step forward, eyes narrowing. "Why is it that you get to leave this place and I don't?"_

_"King, I told you already not to worry about it. Your place is here, that's all, okay? If you don't mind I'm going to go lay down, I'm really tired."_

_"Totsuka," Mikoto warned as he closed the rest of the distance between them, he grabbed the smaller man's arm, forcing him to stay. "Stop running from this."_

_"King, can't you...can't you just leave it alone?" Tatara's tone of voice was pleading, his eyes downcast as he refused to look up at his companion. Mikoto let out a sigh._

_"I can't do that, Totsuka."_

_"And I can't give you the answers you seek," Tatara replied, his voice cracked with raw emotion as he finally glanced upward at Mikoto. "King, I'm so sorry. I never wanted for this to happen."_

_Mikoto remained silent, and although he had a lot of things he wanted to say, he found himself unable to speak._

_"I'm going to go lay down now, okay?" Tatara smiled, and despite its false sincerity, Mikoto warily returned it, not at all understanding the situation he and his friend had found themselves in. Reluctantly, he released his grip, watching quietly as Tatara started up the stairs. Before he could disappear behind the corner, he came to a halt, looking down at Mikoto with tears in his eyes. Mikoto opened his mouth to speak but was silenced when instead Tatara decided to fill the silence with words of his own._

_"Despite everything, I'm really happy I got to see you again, King."_

_By the time Mikoto found the words that he wanted to say, Tatara was already gone._

\- - -  
_Mikoto laid sprawled out on the couch, eyes raking over the sunlight that was reflected on the wooden ceilings of the bar he had called home for so many years that no longer felt like a home at all. It was a prison, he felt, a place he was condemned to stay in without the chance of feeling sunlight on his skin or hearing the chatter of others that he used to take for granted and at times, hated. Tatara was the only thing keeping him sane, of that much he was sure, but since their conversation, Mikoto began to feel like that had also begun to change._

_He was unsure how long ago they had spoken. If the sun had already dipped down beyond the horizon, given way to night, then rose again he was none the wiser. Even as he stared at it, he couldn't recall if it had been there moments before or had only just appeared. He felt as if he was floating, mind bouncing from one place to another, trying and failing to come up with some sort of solution or answer for the predicament he found himself in. When he was unable to find any, he let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as a hand came up to rub at his tired eyes._

_He didn't understand what he was supposed to do, if he was expected to lay and wait for the day to come where more people from his life would come and join them, where they'd repeat the process he and Totsuka had shared, or if he was suppose to find some way to make himself useful, but it all felt pointless to him. There was no end goal, nothing to accomplish, nothing that ever needed his help or attention, and he was somehow supposed to be content? In a way, despite how much peace he had known in the beginning, when he had been reunited with his slain friend, he found himself now wishing that after death came nothing. Not whatever this was._

_As if to mock him, his body began to shake, a wave of cold enveloping him as he curled up on the couch, bringing his knees close to his chest. It didn't subside the way it had in the past, instead, it clung to him, causing his body to shiver as he hugged himself tighter, hands bringing his jacket closer around himself as he tried to shake off the frigid air. He laid there for some time, eyelids growing heavier the longer he fought the cold that clung to his skin and cooled him in a way that even winter's chill never had._

_Sleep found him before relief did, and through thick eyelashes and eyelids that felt heavier than they ever had before, he was greeted by the sight of a woman he had never seen before. She looked shocked, her eyes widening as her mouth opened and she turned her head, as if she was speaking to someone outside of his line of sight, then the world went dark once more._

\- - -

When Mikoto woke up, it was a struggle to keep his eyelids open at all. There was cold air blowing on the side of his face, almost uncomfortably, and bright lights above him that obscured his immediate surroundings and the group of people that hovered over him. He tried to move, to sit up, to get out of the cold air and blinding lights, but found himself unable to move as something pulled on his arms and legs and forced him back down. Wherever he was, it wasn't his bed, that much he was sure of. 

He felt someone's hand rest on the side of his face and winced at the contact, unable to see who it was that reached out to take hold of him. Abruptly, there was a pulling sensation in his throat and he found himself coughing uncontrollably as something he couldn't see was removed from his mouth. His ears were ringing with the sounds of muffled voices, blasting wind, and hurried movements blurring into a mix of incomprehensible words and actions that all seemed to happen at a pace so much faster than Mikoto's tired mind was able to keep up with. He felt like he was going to be ill.

He wanted to close his eyes, and did, only to be shaken awake lightly by another pair of hands that stayed on him, threatening to do it again if he drifted back off again or tried to, for that matter. He didn't understand what was going on, where he was, or why he had been brought here, but he reasoned that perhaps his fear had come true after all. That the version of HOMRA that he and Tatara had been residents of had finally been taken from him and that he instead been delivered to another place that was more suitable for a person like him. 

He didn't know what to expect when the lights finally went dim and his eyes were finally allowed to adjust to his surroundings, but of all the possibilities, he certainly hadn't been expecting for Munakata Reisi to be standing over him alongside a woman Mikoto didn't recognize. He felt his eyes go wide and his lips twitch upwards, then he let out a laugh, the ringing in his ears fading away as he lightly shook his head. If HOMRA had been his version of heaven, he felt it was only fitting, if not cruel, that his hell be occupied by the man that had made his life a living hell, too. The fact the Blue King wasn't yet in the grave mattered not, he figured, he had a feeling their animosity for one another far exceeded worldly ties to begin with.

Their hate had never been theirs to begin with, it was always Reisi's Aura versus his, there was nothing worldly or logical about it.

"Suoh, can you hear me?" Munakata asked, his voice sounding surprised, concerned, and even _genuine_. It made Mikoto's skin crawl.

"You would find a way to torture me, even in death." Mikoto spat out, his words lacking any real venom, but dripping with irony and a huskiness he couldn't place himself. His mouth felt terribly dry and his lips burned when he moved them, the cold air stung when he spoke.

"You're not dead, Suoh." 

Mikoto raised an eyebrow before letting out a bitter laugh, choking in the process as his throat screamed at him in protest, begging him to stop. He let out a shuddered breath as he collected himself once more.

"Very funny, Munakata." He choked out, eyes rolling though the movement was slow and tired. Mikoto felt his eyelids continue to droop but he forced them to stay open, eager to hear what other lies the person, who couldn't really be Munakata, told him. To his surprise, the other man leaned in closer, the woman that stood at his side moving out of the way as she fiddled with something in Mikoto's peripheral vision that he couldn't make out, his eyes met Mikoto's in a way that could only be described as sympathetic. Mikoto felt like he was going to be sick.

"You're not dead, Suoh." Munakata repeated, and although he wanted to argue it, he found himself unable to speak. "You're going to be alright, but you've been asleep for a very long time."

Mikoto turned his head to the side, eyes squinting as he gazed at the woman who stood at his bedside, he watched her tap her pen on her clipboard as she watched a set of monitors that otherwise occupied the space. His eyes trailed the cords and he found himself looking down at his hands, where the wires laid beneath them on the bed, and he felt his blood run cold. Slowly, he turned his head to the other side, staring at the AC unit that sat in the room's lone window as the sunshine peaked in through the halfway closed blinds. This time when it kicked on, Mikoto didn't shiver.

\- - -

What happened after that will forever be a blur in Mikoto's mind. A blur of scans, of rolling down a secluded hospital wing and being poked, proded, and examined by more doctors and machines than he could ever begin to recall. He didn't fight them once, only sat there silently, even going as far as obeying them when they asked for him to flex his legs or wiggle his toes, he had been in too much of a haze to even bother trying to argue with them. 

He felt numb, numb in a way that not even the cold in the other world had felt, which he didn't understand nor dwell on. He thought of Tatara, wondered if he had been real, if any of it had been real at all. When he thought of that world and how he had been stuck there, inside the bar and secluded despite it being his alleged respite, it made sense, he realized. That Tatara, who truly was gone, could do as he pleased, and he, who teetered on the verge of life and death for an apparent six months, was only able to access certain parts of it. It made too much sense to be a delusion, it had been too _real_ , Tatara had been too real for it to be just something his brain had concocted to keep him sane during his ordeal. Besides, he never had been creative, and he felt as if he truly couldn't have made all of that up.

When he was rolled back into his room, he wasn't surprised to see Munakata sitting there, waiting for him. He wasn't exactly the person Mikoto had wanted to see, but he, much like he had felt with the doctors over the course of the last few hours, didn't have the energy to argue with him. He said nothing as the nurse began to plug the censors that adorned his skin back up to the stationary machines that had not been brought with him on his journey. After she finished her task, she asked if he needed anything, and promptly left when he declined with a minute shake of his head, leaving him and Reisi alone for the first time since that fateful December night, Mikoto tried not to dwell on that fact nor the unease it brought with it.

"Suoh," the Blue King began as he stood from his chair, sliding it closer to Mikoto's bedside before he took a seat once more. "I know this has all been a huge...shock, but we need to talk about this at some point or another."

Mikoto said nothing, only continued to stare at the wall ahead of him with a blank expression. Munakata let out a deep sigh.

"I was shocked...when I found you," Reisi admitted as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in the process. "I was so certain you had perished...I felt the life leave your body when I...lowered you to the ground. I remember thinking that you looked peaceful, for once. However...it brought me no joy to see you that way, not under those circumstances. Why did you have to do it, Suoh?"

Mikoto stirred slightly, shifting backwards on the uncomfortable mattress he laid on as his hands balled up in the sheets he rested under. The Blue King studied him for a moment before continuing, realizing he wasn't yet going to receive an answer.

"Anyway, when myself and the rest of Scepter 4 went to retrieve your body and Weissmann's, Weissmann was gone and you were...still breathing. How?" Munakata uncrossed his arms and leaned in closer, something that made Mikoto grip the sheets beneath him just a little bit tighter. "You're no longer a king and you're not immortal...so what happened that day?"

"I don't know," Mikoto grit out, annoyance and frustration flaring as he turned to gaze angrily at the man beside him. "I didn't ask for this to happen, so can you stop hounding me now?"

"So you have no idea how this happened, that's what you want me to believe?" Reisi continued his questioning, seemingly unbothered by the former king's rage. Mikoto couldn't help but sigh, wondering why he thought his actions and words would sway the Blue King in the first place.

"I don't care if you believe it or not," he replied bitterly, tearing his eyes away from the man that sat next to him in favor of studying his hands. A frown pulled on his lips as Munakata's words set in. _No longer a king_ , he repeated to himself, trying to process that part in particular, having already accepted the fact he was still alive, if only a little bit. He was unsure how it happened, that wasn't a lie, and when he thought back to that night, the last thing he could recall was the conversation he had wished he had been able to have with the man at his side. That fact alone made him pull a face, he wished that of all things hadn't been the last thing that he remembered before he woke up.

"I do believe you," Munakata confessed as he relaxed back into his seat, eyes studying Mikoto as if he was trying to pick up on what the other was thinking. "I don't know how it's possible, but alas, here we are."

"Ah," Mikoto answered as he tilted his head back, feeling his hair, that lay limp against his face, tickle the back of his neck. 

"Suoh, is there...anything I can do for you?"

At this Mikoto snorted, not bothering to look the other man in the eyes as he replied. 

"No, I don't need your help."

Beside him, Munakata stood, pulling his chair back to its rightful place as he headed toward the door and opened it before turning the lights in the room off, before he left he looked back at Mikoto with his usual unwavering smile and spoke one final time.

"We both know that isn't true."

Mikoto hated the way that those words sounded, but more than anything, he hated the way that he knew that Munakata was right.

\- - -

Munakata Reisi hadn't been back to the secluded hospital wing Suoh Mikoto had been made a resident of since their last conversation nearly a week ago. 

He kept tabs on his progress, filled in by the reports of the lead doctor of Scepter 4's prison wing and by his own clansmen who stopped by to check on the former Red King's progress on his order. They were only delaying an inevitable conversation, Reisi mused, as he checked over the latest update from doctor Yamashita. One that noted how Suoh was in both good physical and mental condition but would be recommended to pursue physical therapy due to his months spent in an unexplainable coma.

None of it made much sense to Reisi, not that anything relating to Suoh Mikoto ever did. 

The former Red King would forever be an anomaly in Reisi's mind. Every action he took, every decision he made, every word he spoke seemed so entirely unpredictable and at times, unwarranted. So much so, that Munakata had stopped trying to understand him all together at some point or another, long before their final fiery clash. Suoh was the type of person who existed only once in an eternity, there was never anyone that proceeded him, nor anyone who would follow down the same path he did, he truly was one of a kind, unique in a way Reisi never could place. 

Suoh came and went as he pleased, was always passive or infuriated and never anything in between, and it had indeed been fitting that he had _gone out_ only by his own hand in the end. In all their scuffles over the years, Reisi had always felt inferior to one degree or another. Their strength felt equal enough when his sword would cross with a fire encased fist and he wouldn't be sent backwards despite the force that was emitted from the other king, but he never felt as if they had been on an even playing field.

When Reisi would chase after Suoh and catch up with him, he would still feel as if the former Red King was still out of his reach.

Suoh Mikoto couldn't be held down or back by anything, every worldly tie he had had proven ineffective at stopping him from achieving what he had wanted to in the end, Reisi didn't understand why he had ever thought he would have been any different. Suoh was as fleeting as the wind, always slipping through his fingertips like a grain of sand, and gone before he could even ask him why -not that Suoh would ever tell him. No one else had ever been like that, not to Reisi, anyway.

They might have disagreed with one another in almost every aspect, but Reisi couldn't help but find Suoh Mikoto interesting. In hindsight, it was very easy to see why others had been so drawn to him in the first place. People always wanted what they couldn't have, that much was a given, and whether that be Suoh's attention, power, companionship, or something as simple as understanding, no one would ever truly have it, no one would ever have the things that they wanted from him. It was an endless chase, one Reisi himself had fallen victim to.

It was easy to see why the slate had chosen Suoh Mikoto to wield the red aura. He was, in his own right, the human equivalent of a supernova, and the flames that had found a home in him had burnt just as hot. The more he burnt himself out, the hotter the flames had gotten, and when it reached a breaking point, Mikoto had shown Reisi something more than elusiveness and violence, he had shown acceptance. It had been difficult to pierce Suoh's chest, to feel his rib cage crack and warm blood flow onto his hands and soak through his clothes, but he knew he hadn't been the one to bring Suoh Mikoto's story as a king to a close, it had been Suoh himself.

 _Forever an anomaly_ , Reisi snorted, dropping the paper he held in his hands to his desk in the process. He had hoped that when and if Suoh had awoken, that he would be able to fill in some of the gaps of information that Reisi already knew. He had wanted to know what happened to Weismann, wanted to know how Suoh still drew breath, but in the end, it had been as futile as trying to understand Suoh Mikoto himself in the first place. Some things, in that respect, would truly never change. 

King or no king, he would always be the only one who never could be classified into any particular category. He was more complex than the ten thousand piece puzzles Reisi had on the shelves in his personal quarters, and he mused, that perhaps, he would have to accept the fact that he was no different than anyone else who had wanted something from the former king. He could want all he wanted to, beg, plead, ask, it would make no difference. He'd always be none the wiser. He reasoned that perhaps even Suoh didn't understand himself either.

Still, there was the matter of finding out what Suoh wanted to do, where they would go from there on out. Suoh's clansmen thought him dead, had all been left without a body to bury or ash to cradle, and perhaps they had thought that that sort of _ending_ was fitting and had accepted it for what it was. Yet, little did they know that their former king had not yet joined the ranks of the dead, but instead laid in an inhuman rest underneath a prison in Reisi's domain. The Gold King had been as perplexed as he was put off by the whole thing, leaving the decision making to Munakata, who had only ever found himself wondering if he was doomed to be haunted and reminded of Suoh's existence until the day his life would end.

Things and beings who couldn't be understood or classified, things that we're out of the natural order and refused to be brought into the fold, irritated the Blue King to no end. Yet, he couldn't help but find a smile crossing his lips anytime he thought of Suoh Mikoto and all the infuriation and cluelessness he brought him. After all, of all the things to get under Reisi's skin, no one managed to do it to the same degree or in the same fashion as the former Red King.

After pondering his options in relative silence, Reisi stood, hands smoothing over his coat before he reached out for his saber and secured it to his side. There would be no conclusion that would come from avoidance of the topic, and despite the fact he knew he would never truly understand what Suoh wanted to do with the life, _second life_ , he had been given, he knew he would still have to ask. 

\- - -

"Kusanagi Izumo departed for Germany not long after your _passing_ ," Reisi explained as he relaxed into a chair that was stationed an arms length away from Suoh, who studied him incredulously. "He went to Dresden, to be exact, Awashima-kun relayed to me that he was hoping to find some sort of information relating to the slate."

Mikoto shifted around uncomfortably at the news, his face settling into what could only be described as contemplation as Reisi continued his tirade, all but guiltily informing the former king about how his brothers in arms spent their days since his disappearance. It troubled Mikoto more than he thought it would, how so many of _his_ people had chosen avoidance as their method of coping with his absence. He supposed it made sense, to avoid the people and places that reminded you of times you'd never have back, but that didn't stop him from feeling bitter. Then again, most people were nothing like him, he didn't know why he had expected them to act the way that he would when he wasn't there to tell them what should have been done instead.

"Anna is safe and sound," at this, Mikoto's ear perked up. "If my information is to be trusted, she is still under the care of Kamamoto Rikio. I have not seen her, nor any of them, myself, but the reports all say that she appears to be doing well and that Kamamoto has taken good care of her and prioritized her well being." 

If he went back, he'd have to kick Izumo's ass for leaving her, Mikoto noted. He was glad that Rikio had stepped in and had at least tried to fill the massive void he was sure his and Tatara's departure had left in her life, but to have Kusanagi up and leave, regardless of the importance of the information he left in search of, didn't sit well with him at all.

Only after that thought, did he let out a snort, visibly startling the king that sat next to him. He was being a hypocrite, he realized bitterly, for even entertaining the idea that what he had done and what Izumo was doing now were even remotely comparable. Izumo had likely left in hopes of finding some way to avoid what they all knew was coming, that Anna would be the one to fill his shoes, and in the end that meant it was for Anna's own good. Regardless of how much Anna needed the bartender now, she would need him far more later if Izumo was unable to come up with a solution to the impending problem.

Kusanagi had valid and selfless reasons for leaving, Mikoto on the other hand knew his decision was far from both.

And with that in mind, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to look any of them in the eyes ever again. After all, he, against everyone's wishes, had charged onward to his _death_ and chose revenge over them. It gave him the same feeling that he had had when he had woken up in _not-HOMRA_ , like he didn't deserve that after what he had done. 

Even still, he wasn't sure if he regretted it all. He found that hard to do after he had been able to see Tatara again and they had been afforded the opportunity to share their memories with one another and say things they had both left unsaid. It was the closure Mikoto had needed, and he had cared for that and his off brand of justice far more than the devastation he had left behind. He supposed that too, like his _death_ was incredibly selfish, yet fitting. He had only ever been good at destroying things to begin with.

"As for that bar," Munakata continued after some time, "Yata Misaki stays there now, looking after it for Kusanagi, undoubtedly. Although, it never is open for business these days. Kamamoto and Anna stop by periodically, but I haven't had reports of anyone else stopping by. Only that Yata rarely leaves and that the two that visit rarely stay for more than a few hours."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Suoh finally responded, clinching his fists as he tilted his head to the side to look at Reisi. 

"Why am I telling you of your clansmen's status? I think it's only natural that you know the-"

"They are no longer my clansmen, and I am no longer their king. Are you doing this to get some sort of rise out of me?" Mikoto spat, eyes narrowing yet ablaze with a fire that would never truly go out. Munakata shook his head slightly, a frown marring his lips.

"Do you not care for these people, Suoh?"

Mikoto seethed, before letting out a deep sigh and replying, "you are so lucky I'm not a king anymore."

"I'll be sure to take that blessing into consideration in the future." Munakata countered swiftly, raising his hand and waving it dismissively. "For now, I'll continue to tell you the things you don't want to hear if only to prompt you into making some sort of decision. Whether you decide to go back to those people or not is not my decision. However, it is my duty to some degree or another to assist you until you have made up your mind."

"You've never been the kind to do things that don't benefit you in one way or another, Munakata." Mikoto grumbled, tone of voice accusatory as he bit his lip.

"And you don't seem the type to give up on things, why you'd give up on the people who once devoted their lives to you strikes me as an impossibility, despite your hostility toward the topic." Munakata replied in turn, raising an eyebrow when Mikoto grit his teeth.

"You are so lucky-"

"That you're no longer a king. Yes, I believe we have covered this already. Can we move on?" Reisi finished for him, his unwavering smile made the hairs on the back of the former king's neck stand up. "What will you do, Suoh?"

"Whatever I want," Mikoto answered with a smug glare, knowing that his words would eventually chip away at the posterior of the Blue King's usually unwavering mask of _kindness_. "I don't have to answer to you."

"You're correct, you don't." Reisi concurred as his eyes narrowed, "this does remain your decision to make, Suoh. However, you will need to make one and make it soon. You cannot remain here forever," he paused, a smirk growing on his lips, "unless you'd like for me to throw you in a prison cell. I believe there were still warrants for your arrest at the time of your unfortunate _demise_."

"As if you'd do that," Mikoto snickered, "seriously, Munakata, why does it matter to you so much what I choose to do?"

Munakata stiffened in his chair, eyes downcast as he let out a sigh that Mikoto could only raise an eyebrow at.

"Your clansmen...all seem very scattered and upset. Perhaps it isn't my place to say anything, and I'm more than aware of the fact that you never seem to listen to anyone around you anyway, but for their sake...I can at least try and convince you that the correct thing for you to do is confront them."

"You let them think that I was dead. Why do you care so much about them now when you clearly haven't for the past six months?" Mikoto countered bitterly, eyes once again narrowing as they studied the Blue King's dejected frame.

"You chose to leave them behind, Suoh. You should be the one that decides if you go back or not to face the pain your actions have caused." 

"This might as well be hell," Mikoto laughed, the noise completely devoid of any joy and laden thick with what almost sounded like pain, yet Mikoto felt completely numb.

"Suoh."

"Yeah," Mikoto grunted, head rolling back to rest against the mattress behind him, "I know."  
\- - -

"You'll stay here until I come back out to get you," Reisi said as he undid his seat belt and turned around to look at Mikoto who sat in the back seat of the blacked out police suburban. "He doesn't know why I'm here, or that you're here for that matter. I'll leave after you've entered the building to give you two some time to talk and figure things out. Are you sure you don't need anything else, Suoh?"

"No," Mikoto answered dryly, taking a deep breath as he stared at the exterior of the bar he had called home for so many years. He reminded himself that this was the _real_ HOMRA, not the one he had visited during his ordeal, and he found himself biting his lip at the realization that it would not be Tatara who he was reunited with this time around. He and Munakata had agreed that Yata had been the best place to start. Kusanagi was too far away to be up for discussion and while Mikoto wanted to see Anna more than anyone, he still hadn't come up with the right words to tell her and wanted to delay that reunion until such a time that he did. Even still, he wasn't even sure what he would say to his former third in command, either.

In the front seat Reisi shifted, reaching backward to hand the former king a sturdy business card that had his personal number on it, Mikoto examined it for a moment before stuffing it in his jacket pocket.

"Call me if you need anything after this, Suoh." The Blue King added as he left the vehicle and Mikoto to his own devices. Mikoto watched him approach the bar and knock on the glass portion of the door and felt his breathing hasten when the door was unlocked and swung open. From here, Yata didn't look much different than he had when Mikoto had last seen him, but even from that distance, he could see the bags under Yata's eyes and the way that his lips pressed into a thin line as he stepped aside to let Reisi in. When they disappeared behind the thick wooden doors and they shut completely, Mikoto found himself letting out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in. 

A few minutes passed by and Mikoto found himself completely immersed in thought, trying time and time again to come up with some adequate words to say, as if they'd make up for his absence and the pain it had undoubtedly inflicted, yet he wasn't surprised when everything sounded hypocritical and cliche. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to express remorse for something he didn't fully regret, and he wondered that if he were to be honest and tell his ex-clansman that, if he would be called selfish for it. It wasn't too late to turn back, Mikoto knew, he could slip out of the car now and disappear into the crowd for long enough that Munakata wouldn't be able to find him, but he knew that wouldn't last forever. Reisi seemed determined to make him do this, and to one degree or another, Mikoto realized that he was determined to face his former comrades as well.

When Reisi came to retrieve him, he slipped out of the suburban quietly, eyes glancing at the building he stood before, while the Blue King placed a hand on his back and gently pushed him forward. A supportive gesture, but one that made Mikoto grimace all the same, not that it deterred Reisi at all.

"He's thoroughly confused as to why I'm here and what surprise I could be offering him that would be so shocking that he needed to sit down for it, but he's waiting. I wish you luck." Munakata said as he began to take his leave, feet carrying him to the driver's door of the SUV, but before he entered the vehicle he paused, looking at the former king with his signature smile plastered on his lips, yet this time it felt all too genuine. "You're doing the right thing, Suoh."

Mikoto snorted, finding those words a bit startling coming out of Munakata's mouth, but he found his feet moving forward anyway, stopping only when he reached the small set of stairs that led up to the bar. He knew Reisi well enough to know he wouldn't leave, not until Mikoto closed the remaining distance and entered the bar itself, and a part of him figured that even after he was inside HOMRA, that the Blue King would stay in the area just to make sure he didn't bolt when he realized what he had done. It was too late now to do anything else, so with a deep sigh and a shaky breath, Mikoto climbed the steps and opened the door, stepping inside hastily as the door slammed shut behind him.

And across the room he had spent so many days of his life, and _afterlife_ , in, a phone clattered to the ground in the otherwise silent building. Mikoto looked up hesitantly, eyes meeting Yata's as the other man turned slowly in his bar stool, eyes widened out of disbelief and mouth hanging open as he tried to process the image of the man that stood before him. Mikoto made no move to get closer to him or walk further into the bar, only held his ex-clansman's gaze as he pressed his lips into a thin line, waiting for Yata to do something other than stare out of him in shock.

He watched Yata raise a black and white plaid sleeve and rub his eyes vigorously, mouth closing as his lips trembled, a sight that tore at some part of Mikoto's heart, enough to where he took another step forward but found himself stopping when Yata dropped his arm and the skateboarder's eyes locked onto his again. Yata looked confused, as if he had expected Mikoto to be nothing more than an illusion or cruel trick played on him by the Blue King, and it made sense for him to feel that way, he reasoned. If their roles had been reversed and Tatara had walked through the doors of the bar, like he had so often found himself wanting to see, he would have been at a loss, too.

After some time spent in silence, Yata slid down from the bar stool, hand gripping the bar as he stood on shaky legs, never once breaking eye contact with the former king, as if his gaze had been the only thing forcing Mikoto to stay. When Mikoto took a step forward, Yata took one to mimic his, his hand still gripping the bar as if it was the only thing keeping him steady on his feet. Another step came, then another, until they were an arms length away from one another, at which point Mikoto froze, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

"Izumo always used to say that apologizing never solved the problem," he began, surprised when his voice came out as shakily as the legs that the smaller man stood on, and when tears sprung to Yata's eyes and his lip began to quiver more, Mikoto found his own voice wavering further. "But...I'm sorry."

Yata reached his free hand outward, eyes still holding the former king's gaze despite the tears that poured down his cheeks profusely, and gently tapped it against Mikoto's chest before flinging himself into the older man's arms. Mikoto held onto Yata silently, eyes slipping closed as he bit his lip, listening to and _feeling_ the sobs that wracked throughout the other man. Out of all of the things he had been confronted with up until this point, Mikoto found that the worst. He hated it, how someone that had trusted him so blindly and had devoted himself to him now cried out in his arms, clinging to him as if he would vanish again at any moment.

 _You caused this_ , he thought to himself as he tightened his hold on Yata. Guilty didn't even begin to describe how he felt in that moment.

Mikoto was unsure how long they stood there like that, but every second spent there ate away at him. He knew this was only the beginning, that everyone he had once so casually referred to as _his family_ would more or less react in the same manner, and that he would be the only one to blame for it. He didn't even want to think about how much they must have done this already on his behalf, of how many tears they had shed when his visage came to mind, he knew he'd never be able to make up for it.

Eventually, Yata's sobs grew quiet and the younger man's cries came and went in small gasps and coughs as he tried to collect himself, Mikoto had not moved an inch, only continued to hold him close and occasionally rub small circles in his back, something that reminded him of Anna and when she had been younger and cried and he had had to learn how to comfort her. If Yata had been this upset, he didn't want to even think about how many tears she had and _would_ shed because of him. When Yata eventually spoke, his voice hoarse and hold still firm, Mikoto let out a shuddered breath that shook the both of them to their core.

"Why, Mikoto-san?"

"I don't know," Mikoto answered, not knowing if Yata had meant to ask _why he had done what he had done_ , or _why are you still alive_ , but his answer applied to both regardless. 

"Where...where have you been?"

"A hospital," Mikoto replied with a small sigh, looking down at the man in his arms with a small smile though it was beyond forced. "In a coma, apparently."

"How?"

"I don't know," Mikoto repeated as Yata gazed up at him. His amber eyes were red and bleary, and tears still fell from them although they were smaller and less frequent than they had been originally. Yata sniffled. "I'm not a king anymore, though."

"You're alive, who cares about the rest." 

And with that, and for the first time in a long time, Mikoto felt himself getting choked up. He quickly adverted his gaze from Yata's and closed his eyes, clutching him just that much tighter to his chest.

"Does anyone else know about this? Besides the Blue King?"

"No," Mikoto answered in short, finding it harder to speak now than it had been moments ago.

"Do you want me to call the others?" 

"Not yet," Mikoto replied with a sigh, eyes opening slowly as he gazed back down at Yata, having regained his composure enough to face him once more. "This is hard enough as it is...."

"That bastard knew you were alive this whole time, didn't he?" Despite the small hiccups in his voice, Yata sounded furious, something that brought a smile to Mikoto's face, one that wasn't forced.

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna kill him," Yata seethed, and Mikoto couldn't blame him, yet he found himself compelled to explain the situation, and so, he did. Yata listened quietly, thoughtfully even, as he recanted the events that had transpired, a story he would have to repeat many times in the coming days, but he chose to leave out all mentions of Tatara and _not-HOMRA_ for the time being. He wasn't interested in upsetting his former clansman again, nor in having yet another story that he'd have to repeat. By the time he had finished recanting what he knew, Yata's tears had dried up and his breathing had evened out, and in turn, Mikoto felt like he too could breathe again.

"I...I don't really know what to say," Yata began after a few moments of silence, in which he had spent processing the information. Mikoto shrugged.

"So don't say anything then. That's fine, too."

"No, it isn't." Yata corrected with a shake of his head before he rested it against Mikoto's chest once more. "I'm not sure how it happened, but I'm grateful that it did. You don't have a clue...what it was like without you here."

"I'm sorry," Mikoto repeated, his eyes slipping closed again to avoid looking at the person he had hurt. 

"I won't say it's fine...but I will say that I forgive you. I know why you did it, I just wish you hadn't...but none of that matters anymore. You're here now, somehow, that's all that matters."

"I don't think I should be forgiven," Mikoto confessed as he opened his eyes slowly, still avoiding looking downward. 

"Well, that's not up for you to decide," Yata countered almost nervously, but his words brought a smile to Mikoto's face all the same.

\- - -

"Nothing around here has really changed, except...no one really stops by anymore." Yata exclaimed as they entered the recreation room that was nestled on the floor above the bar. A large couch took up the majority of the room's expanse, while a stack of boxes and a projector otherwise occupied the space. A few bookcases filled with movies lined the back walls, and through the room's lone window, the last remnants of sunlight filtered in through the curtain that blew upwards from the cold air that blasted out of the small vent in the floorboard. 

It was exactly the same as he had remembered it, and the same way he had _envisioned it_ , from the placement of things down to the smells, HOMRA really hadn't changed it all, on the surface anyway. He eyed the boxes full of tape reels and found a smile rising on his lips as he recalled the time and conversations he had had with Tatara, he found himself looking forward to sharing those memories with the others. It was the one positive thing he had gained out of all of this, he felt, and it was giving him something to cling onto despite the hard conversations he knew would have to come first.

Mikoto took one last look around before heading to the stair case, Yata trailing behind him ever so close, as if he was still afraid the former king would vanish. He let out a shuddered breath as he reached the hallway that housed his, Anna's, and Izumo's rooms. He reminded himself, once more as he took a step forward, that this was the _real HOMRA_ , but fear crept into the back of his mind as he stood at his bedroom's threshold. He thought it was strange how six months ago he had been on the other side of that door, in another HOMRA, having the same fear, that the walls would crumble away and that he would be pulled down to the hell he so clearly deserved.

Yet, like last time he had done it, nothing happened when he opened the door and he found himself stepping into the threshold of his bedroom. As he observed his room, a small smile rose to his face, and when he turned his head back to look over his shoulder, Yata blushed.

"I'm sorry for using your room, I-I can get my thing's out right now."

"Don't worry about it," Mikoto said, voice laden thick with amusement at his ex-clansman's embarrassment. 

"Well you're going to want to sleep there later, I'll move it now, it's fine." Yata laughed awkwardly as he gently pushed past his former king. Mikoto raised an eyebrow.

"You and I both know you're not going to let me out of your sight tonight," he mused, watching the smaller man freeze in place. "So, it's pointless right now."

In silent confirmation, Yata straightened back out and turned around to exit the room, face still flushed red and eyes avoiding Mikoto's own as he lingered in the hallway, waiting for the older man to join him. Mikoto chuckled, taking one last look at his room before exiting himself, following after Yata and finding himself feeling glad he had decided to come back after all.

\- - -

"I don't know what to say to her," Mikoto confessed as he laid back on the couch, listening to the sound of buzzing neon from the bar signs as Yata sat across from him, still working on finishing up the Chinese takeout they had ordered at the younger man's behest. Yata moved his hand around in circles while he continued chewing, as if to say _one second_ , before he swallowed the food and cleared his throat, speaking afterward.

"Anna...has been lonely, I think. She's still sad, of course, but I don't think she...hates you for what you did." Mikoto felt his stomach churn, not from the food he had consumed moments before, and he threw his left arm over his eyes as he closed them, biting his lip out of frustration in the process. "She may be upset with you...but I think she'd just be happy to know that you're okay now."

"I wonder if she'll be disappointed," Mikoto grumbled, hearing Yata's fork drop to the table as he fiddled with the to-go containers that littered the table. "Not just in me, but over the fact I won't be able to show her _that_ red anymore."

"I don't think that will be the deal breaker, if that's what you're thinking." Yata laughed, clearly trying to diffuse the situation. "You should just be...honest with her, and if she is upset, just try and be patient."

"Why we're you so quick to forgive me?" Mikoto questioned as he dropped his arm, the 3/4th sleeve shirt he was wearing bunching up in the process. He frowned as he ran a hand across it to smooth it back down.

"I spent a lot of time alone," Yata began as he brought his knees up to his chest, eyes meeting Mikoto's almost sheepishly. "I had a lot of time to think about the things that had happened and the things I had wished I had done differently." As his cheeks began to heat up, Mikoto raised an eyebrow. "I had wished...that I had gotten to talk to you more, and actually got to know the real you. In a way, I got what I wanted. Being upset would be a bit silly after I got the chance to do something that I wanted, wouldn't it?"

"I guess being mad at me would make talking to me difficult," Mikoto replied with a snort, a smile pulling on his lips when Yata laughed. He realized now how much he had missed hearing that sound. He had a feeling that so many things he used to take for granted, or things in the past that had annoyed him, would quickly become sounds he couldn't imagine not hearing again.

"Besides, I could never really be mad at you," Yata continued, his tone no longer as joyful as it had been moments before, "no matter how much it hurt."

Mikoto grimaced but said nothing.

\- - -

"So tomorrow, I'll call Kamamoto and have him bring Anna here, does that sound alright?" Yata inquired as Mikoto shut the door to his bedroom, following after Yata as he rubbed his eyes, both mentally and physically exhausted after the day they had. Yata didn't seem to be much better off, yawning as he pulled off the flannel he was wearing and scoured the room in search of sweat pants that he grumbled about under his breath. Mikoto hesitated for a moment before answering his question, pondering if that was what he wanted before he let out a sigh of defeat.

"That's fine."

"You're going to have to do this eventually," Yata said quietly as he found the article of clothing he had been hurriedly searching for. Mikoto shrugged as he sat down on his bed, not facing Yata so that he could get changed with some privacy. 

"I know."

"I'm sure you'll find the right words to say when you see her," Yata exclaimed in a cheerful tone, trying desperately, Mikoto felt, to make him feel reassured in the decision he was making. He only wished that was all that it took to quell the worry that threatened to eat him alive. "She's just going to be happy to see you, I'd bet my life on it."

"Yata?" 

"Y-yes, Mikoto-san?"

"When did you get so..." Mikoto paused, trying to find the right words to say, which seemed so much harder than the younger man made it out to be. "Mature?" He settled on, finding it to be the most fitting. It was quiet for a moment, and although Mikoto couldn't see him, he figured Yata was staring at him out of confusion, as if he didn't entirely agree with his assessment. 

"I'm...not sure what you mean by that, Mikoto-san."

"Just now you sounded reasonable," Mikoto snorted, a smile pulling on his lips though his eyes were half lidded, sadness swimming in them before he added, "you reminded me a lot of Totsuka for a moment."

Before anything else could be said, Mikoto stood, walking to his dresser as he opened up the middle drawer and grabbed a pair of black sweat pants before silently excusing himself as he walked into the attached bathroom. He took his belt and pants off quietly, laying them on the back of the toilet before he pulled on the more comfortable pants he held in his hands. When he finished making himself comfortable, he looked himself over in the mirror that hung above the sink, frowning when he realized how _tired_ he looked. 

He hadn't changed all that much, he realized. He needed a haircut, _styling his hair before he had departed from the hospital had been a pain_ , but he looked the same as he ever did, he thought. But then, he snaked his arm under the hem of his shirt and lifted it slowly, breath catching in his throat in the same way as it had earlier in the day when he saw the still-red, angry scar that marred his chest, right above his somehow still beating heart. Mikoto let his fingers trace over the remnants of the wound before dropping his hand like it had been burned, his shirt settling back on his hip bones in the process. He gave himself one last wary look before taking a deep breath and tearing his eyes away, making his way back to his bedroom.

Yata stared at him as he re-entered the room, and what could only be described as relief crossed his face as he realized that Mikoto was still there, something that made the former king clear his throat, as if it too would clear the guilt he felt because of it. He sat down on the bed quietly, hand reaching to turn off the lamp as Yata settled onto the mattress beside him, when the other stopped tossing and turning, signalling that he was comfortable, Mikoto turned the light off and laid back. His familiar pillow and quilt brought him no comfort this time around, and when the air conditioner kicked on, he involuntarily shivered. Beside him, Yata stirred.

"Mikoto-san?"

"Hm?"

"You're still going to be here in the morning, right?"

Mikoto frowned as he closed his eyes, pulling the covers around himself tighter as the cool air filled the room. He told himself the air was the only reason why he was shaking.

"Ah, I'll still be here."


End file.
